“Maybe. Maybe. You should, eeee, torture it out of me. In a sexy way. Like spies do.” That was the sort of thing that would get Teveri to scathe and make disgusted faces and throw Avra out of rooms and sometimes overboard, but Julian just said, “Oh, okay,” slid his hand up the back of Avra’s head, leisurely clenched his fist on Avra’s hair, and pulled—almost gently, but steady and inexorable and irresistible. Avra’s jaw dropped on a gasp and he went limp. “Tell me everything you know about the serpent juice or the technique of using it,” Julian breathed in his ear.
